The Night in Question
by howzitthen
Summary: An anthology of sorts comprised of 'in between' scenes. Chapters 1-5 are old stories, starting with The Night in Question. Chapter 6 forward will be new.
1. The Night in Question

**The Night in Question**

Still not certain of what had just happened, she calmed herself long enough to take note of his hand at her cheek. As he lifted her eyes to meet his, she met his stare and waited for some explanation.

"I meant something like that."

She stood, confused as ever, as he gently slid her hands down his upper arms, over his elbows, and into his open hands. She felt him give them a squeeze before releasing them, letting them fall as he walked into his room and shut the door behind him. It seemed no further explanation would be given tonight.

So she instead took a moment to breathe. Staring at the front of his closed door, she thought about what had just happened. About who it happened with. Reaching her hand to her cheek, she tried to coax a little feeling back into her face and brain alike. Whatever that was, it was pretty…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her own door swinging open. The frustration felt at the disturbance was countered by the realization that she still had company of her own this evening. Company in the form of a tall, handsome doctor. She struggled to find his name momentarily. But, to be fair, she'd have struggled to find her own name given her current state.

"Uh, babe, do you mind?" he said.

That tore it. Being called 'babe' had never been her favorite thing, but tonight, she all but recoiled at the term. However, it served to snap her out of her fog, and she slowly turned to go back to her room.

"It's fine." She answered, not precisely hearing the question, but assuming it had something to do with the melon headed Nick companion she had created for herself earlier in the night. She shook her head and slipped past him into her room.

She heard him close the door behind her. As she walked towards her closet, she became aware of what she was wearing, or rather, how little she was wearing. Not long before, she had considered the idea of intimacy with the good doctor. A soft, pink robe with nothing underneath seemed to be a pretty safe bet to serve as a facilitator for such intimacy. However, her night of drinking and his late shift at work had led to things stalling out. He had fallen asleep almost immediately, and she had heard a scratch at the door, and that eventually led to her good friend and roommate kissing her freaking face off.

And now, she suddenly felt modest. She wasn't interested in the reason why, at the moment, but she was no longer ready for her guest to see her exposed. Luckily, it seemed he had little in mind other than sleep. From behind her, she heard the springs of her bed give way to his long frame. They squeaked for a few moments before they went silent. Turning to face the bed, she was relieved to find him already asleep.

On any other night, she'd have been offended by his lack of enthusiasm. She thought she looked pretty damn good, after all. Both in the pink robe, and before that, in the admittedly cartoonish, but still fairly provocative getup…

That last thought stuck with her. It suddenly occurred to her that she had spent the better part of the night trying to get Nick to kiss her, all while wearing little more than at admittedly flattering bra. Was it really any wonder that, in the end, she was successful?

She shook her head and turned back to her closet. Grabbing a set of light blue pajamas from the shelf, she slipped the bottoms on under her robe. Then, making sure to keep her back to her bed and its occupant, she dropped the robe to the floor, slipped her arms in the sleeves of the top, and began buttoning up. She looked at her guest, and then to the door, thinking. Should she just go across the hall and bang on that idiot's door? Force him to talk to her about what happened? Maybe prompt a repeat performance? Her eyes grew wide at the realization of that last thought. Did she really just think that? Did she really just find herself looking forward to a kiss with Nick Miller? Shaking the thought from her head, she decided against anything rash. Clearly, she was not in her right head. Instead, she cautiously moved over to the bed and laid down, trying not to wake her sleeping boyfriend. That's right, she thought. Boyfriend. Her handsome, kind, child saving, doctor-boyfriend. She looked over at him as she settled in, her added weight to the bed not disturbing his sleep whatsoever.

Biting her lip, she reached out and clicked off the light beside the bed and closed her eyes. Ten seconds later, they were wide open again, staring into the darkness.

What the hell was he thinking? Kissing her like that? And where did that come from, anyway? Well, she had a pretty good idea where that came from. Wasn't like she'd never thought about it, after all. But what the hell was he thinking, crossing that line? She'd always been able to push that sort of temptation aside. Why couldn't he just be a grown up about it? Just keep sucking it up, man. Things were going fine. Better than fine. And he had to go and ruin it, the idiot.

Letting out a huff, she flipped to her side to face the door, wondering if he was already asleep. Nah, even he would need a little time to come down after that kiss. After that completely unneeded, unprovoked, mind bending kiss.

Although, it wasn't exactly unprovoked. She had played her part in the events of that evening. She insisted he come to rescue her from what turned out to be a harmless, albeit giant, puppy dog. She had put up three fingers when she know perfectly well that doing so would 100% result in him not getting to kiss Holly behind the iron curtain. But she was just looking out for him, right? Holly seemed borderline certifiable. Certainly not a viable, long-term girlfriend. And the fact that she was a seven foot tall, swimsuit model of a woman approximately 6-7 years his junior had nothing to do-

Crap. Jess sat up in bed at the realization that she was, in fact Nick's Cooler. That she did, in fact, get protective of him when other women came into the picture. She had cooled Nick off because she didn't want him to get anywhere with Holly. Period. And that led to the realization that she did, in fact, hold some sort of placeholder in her heart and in her head for the dummy across the hall.

But what for? She had ol' what's-his-name beside her, and he was great. Tall, handsome, successful. Perhaps he didn't make her laugh all that much, but what's one strike against all the other good? Fine, there was the Creed thing, which in itself should've been about one strike per concert attended, but Jess could see past that. She wasn't shallow, after all.

As she fell back into bed and stared at the ceiling, she again closed her eyes, and tried to fall asleep. Again, no use. It wasn't happening. Every time her eyes closed, they brought her images of Nick and memories of that freaking kiss. A kiss she, admittedly, should have earned a full-fledged participation medal for in the very least. Takes two to tango, and takes two to shake the earth in a kiss like, that, too.

As she fought the smile that was crawling over her lips, she allowed herself yet another internal confession: that kiss was probably behind schedule. Even earlier that night, there had been a moment. The one just before the doctor showed up. Nick's hand had fallen ever so gently to the inside her knee. He had left it there. And she had let him. She remembered now the slight charge that had gone through her body in that moment, wondering if this was finally it, not in regards to their stupid game, but in regards to their whole, stupid relationship.

She would have let him kiss her then, too. She realized that now. But that wasn't the point anyway. She had clearly allowed, even energetically participated in what had happened. But it was he who instigated it. He who grabbed her arm, pulled her in, and took the lead. It was his fault that she lie here awake, thinking of Nick Miller instead of the man sleeping to her right.

Rolling back to face the door, she wondered how things were going to be now. The one thing they couldn't do was ignore it anymore. Whatever 'it' was. Or could they? What was the kiss to Nick anyway? She'd always assumed their complicated feelings were mutual. That he was privy to the unspoken arrangement that had existed since that night on the beach. The night were 'nothing' happened, but they both really knew 'something' happened. She then replayed that particular night over in her head. And again. And again. It was the first time Nick made her feel like she belonged. Like she was an important part of his life. And yeah, things changed that night, and things did kind of happen. But nothing on the scale of this.

No. Something had to give. A kiss like that? No way they go back to being just friends. Not even friends that mutually threw a rug over whatever complicated and 'unfriend like' feelings they might have had for each other. No, this was going to change things. But how? Would she have to move out? Nick couldn't afford to live on his own. Would they get to a point where they took to avoiding each other? Nick sticking to the apartment during the day, working exclusively night shifts so she could come home from work at night to a stress free environment? Would she have to avoid the bar, and Nick in general for a while?

She flipped to her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. None of that was going to work. She couldn't imagine not having him in her life at this point. Over the year and a half of knowing Nick, he had pretty much become her go-to. Her go-to on… pretty much everything.

She opened her eyes into her pillow as another thought took hold: what if they just… started dating? It's crazy, but not that crazy. There was clearly something there. After all, she was pretty sure part of her face was still lying on the floor between their bedrooms. And that sort of thing doesn't just come out of nowhere. They cared for each other. They clearly enjoyed being around each other… most of the time. And there was the attraction. Undeniable on both sides, it was clearly a part of this equation. Why… couldn't they just start dating? Give this thing a real shot?

She found the thought encouraging, almost comforting. Jess and Nick. A real, bona fide couple. That didn't sound too bad. Why not? Just why the hell not?

As she spun to her right, she found her answer. The man sleeping 8 inches to her right. She'd sort of forgotten about his role in all of this. He was a good enough guy, once she brought his defenses down. Defenses that, ironically enough, were put up due to a bad breakup. She didn't want to hurt him. He had done nothing wrong, after all. But Jess had all but forgotten about him ever since Nick had swept her up in that kiss. Ever since she climbed into bed, her thoughts had been focused solely on Nick Miller, and not the man beside her. As the guilt took hold, she noticed that the sun was coming up. It was morning. Regardless of the late night, she had been mulling her situation over for hours and hours, with almost no sleep. Turning to face the door again, she thought about her next move. All the thinking she'd been doing, all the sleep she'd missed could all be for naught. She had to talk to the other party involved in her… situation. At least, one of the other parties. The instigator. Shaking her head, she gave the man next to her a quick glance. She bolted from the bed, and headed for the door, unsure of what awaited her on the other side.

**Can't say it enough, thanks for reading.**


	2. Wrong Place, Wrong Time

**Wrong Place, Wrong Time**

Russell ran his fingers through his graying hair before impatiently checking his watch. He was certainly overdue for a haircut, he thought to himself. Getting a bit mullet-y in the back. If he knew he'd be seeing her tonight, he would've made a point of getting it taken care of.

He stopped fidgeting and risked a look over at her. She was wildly underdressed, a red and white baseball shirt under her red and blue plaid coat. She tapped the pen against her chin, thinking of what to write. She lifted her eyes and stole a glance at Nick, standing to her right, he himself deep in thought. Russell noted that her hair was a bit more unkempt than normal, her bangs a little longer than he was used to seeing. As she rolled her eyes away from Nick, she briefly stared past Russell into the distance. He held his breath a bit as he couldn't help but find himself admiring those large, blue eyes. He thought back to earlier times, back when they were together. He smirked as he reflected on how easy it would be to fall into that old habit.

After a moment, he forced himself to look away. He didn't know how long he'd been looking at her, but he didn't want to get caught staring. Not by Jess, and not by his date for the evening. He offered the perfectly lovely (and calmingly dull) blond to his left a quick smile and a roll of the eyes before he turned his attention to Nick. The perpetually scruffy, aimless bartender actually cleaned up pretty well, Russell thought to himself. Truth was, he kind of liked Nick. Saw a bit of himself in him. Just a tiny bit, but a bit all the same.

Nick repeatedly tapped his pen on the valet card Russell had handed him when he posed his little challenge. A challenge Russell already regretted. He had been slightly taken aback to see Jess when he walked in the restaurant, but he wasn't particularly surprised when he saw who she was with. After all, Russell himself had said he was glad to see that they were 'finally happening'. It wasn't entirely true, of course. Part of him would've been perfectly content if Jess never moved on. Especially if that meant her potentially reevaluating her relationship with Russell. Wishful thinking...

But the bigger point remained. There was something about the lovely teacher and her somewhat lost but good natured roommate that just seemed to make sense. And after observing their antics that evening, Russell could see that Jess had found the 'passion' that she was looking for. He shook his head, and again regretted posing his challenge. These two were clearly nuts about each other, but they appeared to be at an odd stage in their relationship. It didn't seem they knew _exactly_ what they were yet, but that in itself didn't have to be a problem.

Russell cleared his throat and turned to his date.

"Come on, let's just go, Brandy," he said, gently grabbing her arm.

"No, no, no, no, no. I got it," Jess said, scribbling on her card.

"Me too," Nick followed.

They each handed their cards over to Russell, and he took them apprehensively. He watched them exchange nervous, hopeful glances with each other and he, yet again, regretted involving himself in their situation. He took a breath and looked down at Nick's card. He didn't have the foggiest idea of what it said. Nick, it seemed, had penmanship that would make a second grader blush. It didn't really matter, though. Russell had been in Nick's shoes, and he was pretty sure Nick was no more resistant to Jess' charms than he himself had been. He felt pretty secure assuming she meant everything to him. Russell quickly flipped over to Jess' card and wasn't surprised to find it far more legible.

'He means more to me than I can say on this dumb card' it read.

Russell felt his face fall as the realization that Jess had, indeed, moved on settled in. Not that he was surprised. He then realized he needed to find a way out of this situation. The pair clearly had some important things they needed to talk about. And they needed to talk about it privately. Russell had no business being their moderator. He numbly slipped the cards into his back pocket.

"You know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe just forget I thought of it. We're just gonna go," he said, attempting to usher his date towards his car. He heard Nick and Jess behind him as he walked away.

"What did you write?"

"What did you write?"

Russell waited for the light to change as he listened to the protestations of Nick and Jess. Not wanting them to catch up with him, he stepped into the street before the light changed. He was actually a little relieved with the police officer's lights flashed and the siren bleeped.


	3. Preemptive Strike

**Preemptive Strike**

"What kind of incense is this anyway?" Caroline asked, holding a lighter to the end of the scented stick.

"I think it's evergreen something or other," Nick replied, sitting on the corner of his unmade bed. "It's been a good while since I've… partaken… so it might smell a bit stale."

He got up, picked his t-shirt up from the floor and pulled it over his head. She set the incense into its wooden holder, and turned to face him. She rolled up the sleeves of his blue flannel she had thrown on earlier and smiled.

"Music?" he asked.

"Sounds delightful," she replied. She walked back to his bed and sat down watching him. She wasn't sure about this. About him. She was surprised when he called, and even more surprised that she herself agreed to come meet him. And she was, of course, surprised how quickly she'd ended up back at his apartment.

"Any preferences?" he asked, flipping through his rack of CDs.

"Something soft… romantic?"

Only Nick Miller would still be relying on CDs as his preferred method of playing music, she thought. She'd have to remember to bring her iPod next time she came over. She looked around the room and noticed that it wasn't quite as messy as she remembered. Not clean by any means, but not a total wreck.

Nick settled on a slow, jazzy CD that Caroline didn't recognize. They didn't really have similar taste in music, but what he put on was something that was easy to ignore. He walked over to the bed and gave a little shimmy as he did so. She assumed this was for her benefit. She resisted the impulse to roll her eyes and forced a smile.

"Hey, I gotta run the powder room," she said. "Freshen up a bit."

"Don't let me stop you," he replied as she stood up. She leaned into him and gave him a small, dry kiss.

"I'll be right back," she said, opening the door.

She didn't get two steps out of the room before she felt the considerable mop of dark hair approaching her from the right. She turned quickly and was unhappily surprised to see Nick's roommate, all bangs and big eyes, and seemingly just as surprised to be seeing her.

"Oh… hey," Caroline said, trying not to sound too obviously annoyed.

"Hey… Caroline. How you doing?" Jess said, awkwardly adjusting her black jacket.

"Good… I'm just… going to use the bathroom."

She quickly turned and made a beeline for the restroom. She walked through the open door and paused. The door was propped open. What kind of girl moves in with three guys and allows them to prop the bathroom door open? Caroline bent down and flipped up the door stop, letting the door shut behind her. She took a second to look for the lock, but quickly remembered there wasn't one.

"Like living in a freaking dorm," she said under her breath.

She walked over to the twin sinks, rolling her eyes at the pair of urinals behind her. She leaned over and took a good look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was slightly mussed, but still mostly together. She ran her finger under her eyelid to wipe away the tiniest bit of mascara that had started to run, taking time to note the blueness of her own eyes. Maybe not quite as wide or dramatic as Jess', but blue enough. Blue enough for Nick's attention anyway. Besides, it's not like she couldn't darken her hair and pile it all down her forehead to help make her eyes 'pop' a bit more, too. She just chose not to.

Caroline scanned the shelves in front of the mirrors. Several different types of lotions, hair products, and perfumes lined both shelves. It took a while to discern which products were Jess' and which were Schmidt's, but it seemed safe to assume that the flowery scents were more likely to belong to Jess. Settling on a lavender moisturizer, Caroline pumped a few squirts of lotion into her palm and slowly massaged it into her hands and forearms. A few more flicks to her hair and she was ready to go back to Nick. She walked to the door, opened it, and didn't bother to put the stopper down again. She took a few steps and had to hide her dismay that Nick and Jess were still chatting just inside his door. Just inside, Caroline noted, not just outside. What does he need to be talking to her about? And so intensely?

"I'll never get used to those urinals," she spit out. She ignored the disingenuous laugh that came from Jess and slipped into Nick's room, fully intending to pull him in with her.

"Hey, would you give me a second," Nick said. "I have to talk with Jess for…"

"Oh, sure," she said.

"By Caroline," Jess waved.

"Bye" she replied just as the door shut on. She quickly and softly ran to the door and tried to hear what was so damn important to Nick. She didn't make it in time to hear what he said, but she heard what his roommate said, no questions asked.

"Have fun making terrible life decisions!" Jess exclaimed, and started to stomp off. Caroline was more than a little disappointed when Nick didn't just let her go. Instead, he went after her to continue the conversation.

Caroline listened intently to the showdown. They were talking so loud she didn't even need to keep her ear to the door for very much longer. Jess said was disappointed in him for not living up to his potential, Nick said he wanted her to mind her business. Caroline could hear in their voices, could hear in their less than eloquent pleas to each other that there was something going on. Something beyond pals. Something beyond roommates.

She might have known it from the start. All the way back to the wedding. Back when Nick was trying to pass Jess off as his girlfriend. It had certainly gotten a rise out of Caroline. A big one. Even though she had been seeing someone, she herself wasn't exactly sure how far she would've taken things with Nick had the rather absurd lie about Jess being pregnant not pushed things to a breaking point. It wasn't so much Nick's behavior on that day. He had been typical Nick. Uneasy, grumpy, cynical. Unsurprisingly unshaven. No, it was the ease Jess seemed to have around him. Holding his hand, playing with his hair… acting as though he were as cuddly as a Care Bear. Caroline knew better than anyone, Nick was no Care Bear.

Just like the day of the wedding, Caroline felt herself getting defensive. And then, just like the day of the wedding, she found herself wanting to take the offensive. Something about seeing Nick with that pair of annoyingly blue eyes and pile of wavy, dark hair just infuriated Caroline. And she just wasn't going to have any of it. The two of them out there getting all 'mad' at each other. And Nick! Comfortable enough around Jess to be doing so in only his boxers! By the time the spat had apparently broken down into a butt shaking competition, Caroline had come to a conclusion.

"Stop looking at my ass!" Jess yelled before again storming off.

"Oh I'm going to kill you," Nick said more to himself than to Jess.

Caroline took this to mean the fight was over, and she quickly ran to Nick's old CD player and turned the volume on the light Jazz he was playing up, hoping it would be loud enough to fool him into believing she hadn't heard any of what just happened. She grabbed some old magazine from the shelf above, dove onto the bed, and flipped to a random page. As she pretended to read what was apparently an old SI swimsuit issue, she began to wonder what was taking so long. What she had assumed would only take a few seconds ended up taking several minutes. What was he doing? When he finally did return, he stoically slipped through the door and shut it quietly behind him. He smiled unconvincingly at Caroline before sitting on the bed beside her.

"Everything OK," she asked, dropping the magazine to her lap.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What did Jess need?"

"Oh, I have absolutely no idea what Jess needs," he said, rubbing his head.

She went to rub his neck, and he seemed to instinctively tense up. He again smiled apologetically as he forced his body to relax. Caroline continued to massage his shoulders as she went to work.

"So what do you think about staying at my place tonight?"

"That might not be such a bad idea."

"We could go see a movie, then try that new Thai place in my neighborhood."

"Yeah, you know that sounds… fine. That sounds good."

"That way we can have a little more… privacy."

"That would be good."

Caroline pulled Nick close, turning him to face her. She smiled at him a moment before getting to the most important part of her performance. She widened her eyes as faux concern spread across her face.

"Oh shoot, I forgot…"

"Forgot what?"

"It's just… we may need to stop and get some more blankets for the bedroom. Maybe a space heater."

"What's up?"'

"It's just been getting really drafty at night. I think the exposed brick wall in my bedroom has seen better days. I've talked to the landlord about getting someone to take a look at it…."

"Well, I could take a look if you…."

"No, no…" Caroline shook her head. Last thing she needed was a visit from Nick Miller, amateur maintenance man. "My lease is actually up at the end of the month anyway, so… I've been looking around."

"Oh… that makes sense then, you've been living there a while now," Nick said, relaxing.

"I actually have an appointment to see a place tomorrow. Any interest in coming with me? Couldn't hurt to have another set of eyes."

"Yeah, I'll tag along if you want," Nick said. He sat quietly for a moment, finally relaxed, it seemed. "Hey, I'm going to go grab the paper and take a look at the movie times, okay? I'll be right back."

"Sounds good," Caroline said, watching Nick walk to the door. "Hey, bring in the classifieds, too. I haven't checked them out today."

"You got it," Nick said, disappearing through the doorway.

Okay then, Caroline though to herself. She had about 12 hours or so to get herself an apartment viewing in the local area. A place that was nice, quaint, and affordable. And a place that was big enough for two.


	4. Elevator Up

**Elevator Up**

Nick gave Schmidt a final clap on the back and took a step towards Jess and Cece. He should've known better than to let his guard down around his best friend at such an emotional time.

Schmidt was on top of him before he knew it, grabbing Nick by the head with both hands and firmly pressing their mouths together. Schmidt had enough leverage and enough upper body strength that it took Nick nearly two full seconds to free himself. A two-handed push to Schmidt's face did the trick, and Nick was left again to wonder how his roommate of nearly ten years had decided upon this particular tactic as his go-to display of affection.

Nick was exhausted, and while he'd never say it, he was going to miss his best friend. So, rather than raise a fuss, he simply shot Schmidt a look that said 'Come on'. Schmidt answered the look with a look of his own. It was a look that said what they were all thinking. That Nick was making a mistake, and that they didn't want him do go through with it. And since he could honestly understand where they were all coming from, Nick couldn't get too mad. He decided to let Schmidt's antics slide.

"Just go," Nick said, trying not to seem too cold. "Get in the car."

As Schmidt reluctantly joined Winston in the backseat, Nick turned his attention to Cece. He wiped the Schmidt off his lips and was met with a brief but sincere hug. He had sensed something was going on with Schmidt and Cece earlier in the morning. He couldn't tell if it was a simple spat, or perhaps something that hinted at a bigger problem. He'd have to make sure to get in Schmidt's ear about it next time they talked. Nick didn't know Cece well, but she seemed to bring something out of Schmidt. What exactly it was he couldn't say, but he was pretty sure it was something good.

"Good luck," Cece said, breaking the hug. She turned and ducked into the car, leaving Nick with just one more goodbye.

Jess quickly stepped up to him, turning her blue eyes on him expectantly. He didn't have confidence in what he read behind her eyes. He never did. Even after the night before in the desert, he didn't know where exactly she was coming from.

"Well," he offered, breaking the silence.

"Well," she gave him back, tilting her head to the side and looking at him intently. Looking at him as if he was supposed to say more.

Did he want to say more? His goodbyes to Schmidt and Winston had been brief and, lip locks aside, simple. There was even less involved with Cece. But this? Why was this so hard? After all, she gave him her blessing just last night. Or at least it seemed like she did.

"All right, I'll see ya," he forced out, just to say something.

She looked down for a few moments. She nodded and forced and insincere smile across her lips before flashing her sad eyes past his.

"See ya,"she said.

She turned to the car so quickly that Nick didn't have time to pull his hands out of his pockets and offer a hug. Perhaps it was for the best. They weren't really huggers, he thought as she got in the car. Or at least not with each other. But he was leaving, and he had certainly planned on hugging his friend goodbye. As the car pulled away, Nick offered a half-hearted wave. A wave he wasn't sure was actually seen by any of the car's occupants. He shoved his hand back in his pocket and ducked under the red canopy of the Windsor Arms apartment complex. As he made his way through the automatic glass doors, he tried to think forward. About Caroline, about the new life he was about to start.

Once inside, he walked past a large block of bronze mailboxes and turned left. As he moved down the red carpeted hallway, he passed about a dozen white doors set in the walls surrounding him. Doors to a dozen units not unlike the one he was about to move into with Caroline. He attempted to do the math in his head as he arrived at the twin, silver elevator doors at the end of the hallway: A dozen units here on the first floor of the east wing, and likely a dozen past the lobby into the west wing. As he pushed the button to call the elevator, he tried to remember how many stories tall this building was. It was even seven or eight, he thought.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. The elevator pinged and the doors slid open in front of him. He stepped into the empty elevator and turned around. He located the buttons to the right of the doors, leaned over and pushed the button for five. In doing so, he saw that the building did indeed have seven stories. He leaned back against the wall of the elevator and finished doing the math. One hundred and sixty-eight, he concluded. One hundred and sixty-eight apartments just like, or almost just like, his and Caroline's. He caught the blurred reflection of his frowning face in the doors of the elevator as he straightened up. Hardly matters, he thought. Character is overrated. If this place is good enough for 168 or more other tenants, it was good enough for Nick Miller.

He tried to busy his mind with thoughts of Caroline. With how truly great she had been about his whole freak out the day before. There really was no questioning that, he thought. If their roles were reversed, there is absolutely no way he would've been able to handle that level of doubt on her part. No, not doubt, he reasoned. He had no doubts, after all. This was the right move, even Jess agreed.

The elevator reached the fifth floor and the doors opened. Nick stepped through into the hallway and found himself walking very, very slowly towards his new life. Had Jess really agreed, he wondered. She said she wanted him to be happy, that much was true. And if moving in with Caroline was what it took, then she was on board. But was that really what it was going to take? Nick tried to chase that thought away with another thought. One that brought about even more confusion: what did Jess mean when she said that she would be okay because she met him?

Nick was not good at finding meaning in the words of women. Still, those words gave him pause. After a moment of consideration, he realized that he had completely stopped in the middle of the hallway. A young blonde woman in a red jacket quickly passed on his left, giving him a questioning look. He tried to just laugh it off, offering a nod and a smile. He resumed walking towards his new apartment, again trying to shake the thoughts of his wide-eyed roommate from his mind. After all, he and Jess were roommates, nothing more.

Well, maybe not 'nothing' more, he thought as he reached apartment 526. He faced the door to his new apartment, and considered the past nine months with his curious new roommate. Obviously, things were going to be different with her than Schmidt or Winston. She was a girl, for Christ's sakes. And, weird and annoying or not, she was an attractive girl to boot. Attractive enough to merit a documented oath to keep his hands off. An oath he intended to keep. He stepped to the left of the door and leaned back against the wall.

When Jess moved in, he was still raw from his latest go round with Caroline. The last thing he had wanted was to start to feel things for his new roommate. He feared he would find himself attracted, freak her out, and force the guys to start the roommate search anew. So he came up with the idea for The Oath. If he had it in writing, he figured, he'd stand a better chance of holding himself to it. Coach was deep into his own relationship (deeper than anyone knew at the time) so he agreed, no questions asked. Schmidt took some convincing. He understood where Nick was coming from, and he knew given Nick's state (as well as Jess' state of availability) that his fears weren't unfounded. However, Schmidt was never eager to scratch any woman off his own, personal 'could do' list. Eventually Coach and Nick convinced him by appealing to his logical side: any sort of 'activity' with Jess would likely put an end to any sort of potentiality with Cece. And Cece was a challenge Schmidt just couldn't pass up.

Nick used his elbows to push himself from the wall, shaking his head. The Oath notwithstanding, he was with Caroline now. Besides, outside of some misplaced importance he had attached to their little coyote show down, Jess had never shown any sign that they were anything but friends. So, he again reasoned: Jess was nothing more than an attractive roommate who he was never going to get anywhere with, who smelled great, who had his back, and who seemed to truly care about his well-being. She got in his face about wasting his potential, and when she perceived his reunion with Caroline as him just 'giving up', she tried to make him reconsider.

Honestly, she wasn't that unlike Schmidt and Winston at all. They had also made their opinions about Nick and Caroline well-known. If anything, more well-known. They'd been with Nick longer, of course, and had seen first-hand what that relationship was like. Jess was merely new to the scene, Nick reasoned, and her opinion was offered through a fresh set of eyes. A fresh set of big, beautiful, blue-

No. That's not what this was about. Jess, like Schmidt, like Winston, was just worried about him. Worried he was rushing into things. Worried because, for some reason that was completely unknown to Nick, those three weirdos just cared about him. But so did Caroline. She had proven that by asking him to move in with her, and by being calm in the face of his freak out the night before. This time, Nick thought, things were going to be different.

He gave his face a few slaps, and knocked on the door to the apartment. He waited a moment before he heard Caroline's voice.

"Use your key, silly, "she called from inside the apartment.

Nick smiled and shook his head. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the loose key, plugged it into the door and turned the handle. He shut the door behind him and navigated his way through the stray boxes and misarranged furniture until he came upon Caroline in the bedroom. Their bedroom. She was wearing a green blouse, her hair a bit askew from the hours she no doubt had been spent working on the apartment. There she was, already working hard, he assured himself. This time was already different. She was committing to him for real, and his commitment to her was finally going to be rewarded. This is what he wanted. This is what he needed. This felt right.

"So, what do you think?" she asked, giving the curtains a tug and turning to look at him.

Nick considered it a second. He actually thought the off white curtains went well with the walls as is, but he knew Caroline was thinking soft mint for the bedroom. He guessed he didn't feel strongly about it one way or the other. It really should be up to her, but he supposed he could at least weigh in. He looked at Caroline and smiled.

"I... I can't do this. I'm sorry, Caroline. I just... can't."


	5. Elevator Down?

**Elevator Down?**

Jess stood with her back to the slightly adjacent loft door and smiled at Nick. Some girl, in the woods, on a towel. That made a lot more sense. Certainly more than some 'hired gun' like poor Winston. Though she knew she had no right, Jess was… relieved about that. She stood and looked at him, wondering how and when and in what world Nick Miller had invested in a pink shirt. She was jolted out of the moment by the chirping of her cell phone. She fished the phone from her purse, knowing exactly what the ill-timed interruption was about.

"I have to go meet Teddy," she murmured as she slipped her phone back in her purse. "I should go."

But… that wasn't exactly true, was it? Sure, she was curious as to why Teddy had wanted to meet for a drink out of the blue, but the outcome of her evening wasn't in any real question. Even if Teddy had 'nonsense' on his mind, she certainly didn't. Not with the… whatever it was… she had going on with Nick. For a moment, she felt guilty. She hadn't exactly been misleading Nick, per se. But judging by his awkwardness all evening, she had a pretty good idea he thought Teddy had ulterior motives. And, more importantly, he might've gotten the impression Jess was open those motives. She admitted to herself then that she hadn't exactly been in any hurry to set him straight on the matter. It was in that moment of guilt, magnified by her exhaustion with the entire situation, that Jess decided to cast one final line to see if Nick bit. She adjusted the purse on her shoulder, steadied herself, and looked her roommate in the eye.

"What do you think?" she asked, just loud enough for him to hear.

Nick just stood and stared. She wasn't surprised. And really, she should've known better. After their disastrous 'first date' devolved into her all but pleading with him to tell her how he felt, she should've known to expect no less from Nick Miller. Or rather, no more. She looked down and took a breath to gather herself. She reached up to adjust her glasses before leaving, and despite every part of her trying not to, she looked at him once again. Just to see if maybe, maybe he was giving her something back. And, of course, he was not. She quickly turned through the door before her watering eyes could give her away. No way she was giving him that, she thought as she shut the door behind her.

She trudged toward the elevator and told herself 'never again'. Again. She thought she'd learned her lesson on that embarrassing night at the haunted house. The night she opened up to Sam and told him what she wanted only to have him reject her, leaving her bruised, both literally and figuratively, covered in Halloween makeup, feeling every bit the clown. He was kind about it, of course, but it had crushed her all the same. Looking back, she wasn't sure if she had ever gotten past that with Sam. That she would've ever been able to fully open herself up to him again. And now she wondered if that was why their eventual end was so easily put in the rearview by what was quickly becoming a nightmare scenario with her surly roommate.

She pushed the button for the elevator and looked back to the loft. She didn't know why she bothered. She certainly didn't expect anything. She turned back to the elevator doors and instead thought of Russell, and how stupid she must've seemed to him at the end. Throwing away a good, well-meaning man who truly cared for her. A man who thought the world of her, and actually had the means to show her a good deal of that world. And for what? To chase some kind of 'passion' she only ever read about in books or watched in movies? Well, she'd found 'passion', alright. But it wasn't uplifting and beautiful as she'd always romanticized. No, it was clumsy, messy, and above all stupid. Really, really stupid.

The elevator pinged and she stepped inside. She pressed the button for the lobby and turned back to face the door. It was one thing to be wrong, she thought. One thing for Russell to simply know better. He was older, after all, and had experienced the profoundly stupid 'passion' with his ex-wife. He had learned his lessons the hard way. But it was another thing for him to find himself in the middle her 'first date' with Nick. To witness first hand exactly where Jess' search for passion had gotten her: defending her relationship with her roommate to her ex-boyfriend via valet card. And she couldn't even do that right, apparently. She should've just listened to Russell. He clearly knew what-

Her thought was interrupted by a hand grabbing the elevator door and pulling it back open. She stood frozen as Nick took a deep breath and came at her. He had a look on his face she had only seen once before. The look was full of intent. It was honest, even if it didn't seem completely sure of itself. It was the look that got them into this whole mess.

"What are you doing?" she muttered, mostly to herself.

He stepped to her side and, to her complete surprise, lifted her off her feet as though she were nothing. A gasp of surprise (and probably more) escaped her as she instinctively joined her hands behind his neck.

"Let's not think about it," he answered.

He carried her through the hall, then through the open loft door, kicking it shut behind him. As they made their way to his room, she realized her mouth was hanging ever so slightly open. She closed her lips and looked up at Nick. He had a look of absolute focus and determination as he was trying to gracefully navigate her through the loft. She caught herself wondering how Nick was doing this with such ease. She knew she was hardly a heavy load, but then, Nick was hardly in shape. Though, judging by the pounding of her own heart, she imagined a rush of adrenaline was likely assisting him in his endeavor.

She felt Nick move his arm from her back as he reached for the door to his room. She clung tighter to his neck as he pushed the door open. He returned his arm and looked deep into her eyes as he turned her through the doorway and stepped into his room. His eyes broke away and looked down at the bed. Jess' eyes were soon to follow. Is this what this has all led to? Were they really about to do this? Were they-

The realization hit Jess that they were doing exactly the opposite of what he had suggested. They were thinking. And she had had just about enough of where that had gotten them. When Nick turned his eyes back to meet hers, she decided to put an end to all the nonsense.

Before either of them had a chance to get in their own way, she pulled Nicks face to her own, pressed her lips to his, and completely ensured that every last thought emptied from both of their heads.

**Thank you for reading.**


	6. The Night (Still) in Question

**The Night (Still) in Question**

"I meant something like that."

More than a little surprised by his sudden boldness, he took a second to admire the fact that that was actually a pretty damn cool thing to say in that moment. But the moment passed quickly, and he was left looking into those impossible blue eye. Eyes that bore into him with the same question he had himself: what the hell was that? As much as he would've preferred to stand in that hallway for hours just looking at her, his bold streak had started waning. Besides, he had no answers. Taking her hands from his shoulders, he gave them a squeeze before turning toward his room. He shut the door behind him without looking back.

Raising his hand to his head, he stopped just inside his room. His eyes went wide when he was struck with a realization: she had totally kissed him back. Of all the possible outcomes of his spontaneous maneuver that coursed through his brain in the flash before he grabbed her arm and dove in, her kissing back wasn't really one he'd really considered. He figured he'd be met with resistance. Confusion. Perhaps a shove, even a slap. But he never really stopped to think about the possibility of her kissing back. Not just kissing back, either. Kissing back with great fervor and intensity. She was certainly surprised by the kiss, but it took her almost no time to adapt and reciprocate. What was that about?

He took two steps into the room before turning back towards the door. He reached for the door knob before the voices on the other side stopped him. Jess and the doctor were on the other side, exchanging words he couldn't make out. But what he could make out was the sound of Jess' door closing behind them. Behind them. No mistake about that. She was going to bed with another man. Her boyfriend.

Nick let his hand fall from the door knob. He turned and leaned his head against the door, again bringing his hands up to his face. Of all the thoughts that could have entered his mind at that point, one he couldn't have predicted came front and center: he was going to have to kill Schmidt.

It was all that suit wearing, chest-waxing idiot's fault. Holly had been into Nick, after all. Totally dug his vibe. The reasoning (and ultimate unhealthiness behind that reasoning) notwithstanding, she was into him. And then Schmidt comes along with his lies about being sad and not still being in love with Cece. It should be Nick having one-time, meaningless, fantastic, and yes, perhaps somewhat upsetting sex with the stunning blond. Instead, Schmidt is doing what Schmidt does, and Nick was left to…

He dropped his hand from his face as his thoughts came together. What was he left to do, exactly? Why, he was left to share the best kiss of his entire life with the woman he'd had some sort of feelings for something like a year and half. That's right: share. She was a more than willing participant, and this is something that he could not deny. Her hands went places, she came back for more. Somehow, for some reason, Jess was into that kiss.

He stumbled towards the bed before allowing himself to crash facedown into the tangle of mismatched sheets and afghans. Jess was into that kiss. Could that mean in some way, in some universe she might actually be into him as well? A girl like that? Someone so sweet, so kind, and so beautiful? Rolling to his back, the thought about the women of his past. He had to admit he'd actually had a pretty good run. Outkicked his coverage, as they say. Lots of lookers, no complaints there. Even Holly earlier that evening had her sights set on him until his no-good, Prada sporting, perfume wearing idiot of a roommate interfered. He was definitely going to have to remember to kill Schmidt later.

But none of that answered his question. What did his fairest roommate think of him, really? He brought his clenched fist to his mouth as he considered the question, but as he did so, he was completely distracted by the lingering scent of her shampoo. Or conditioner. Or hairspray, or whatever it was that seemingly attached itself to his hand when he ran his fingers through her ridiculous hair. God, that hair. That freaking, unreasonable hair. Hair that, even in its most frazzled and unkempt state, always seemed to convince his eyes to linger.

Thinking of her hair led to him thinking of her eyes. And then… her other things. What was he doing sitting in here agonizing over what she was thinking when she kissed him back? What stopped him from simply… asking her? He stood up and, once again, headed for the door. His hand again made it all the way to the cool surface of the door knob before he pulled it back. Oh. That's right. The doctor. The tall, rich, handsome doctor who, by her own admission, provided her with the best sex of her life.

He returned to the bed and slumped back down. If the good doctor was the best, that meant he was somehow better than Russell. And even though that seemed an utter impossibility, the bottom line remained the same: how could Nick possibly expect to stack up. Russell was a man's man. The kind of man women wanted to be with, and men wanted to be. Like, really, really wanted to be. Such confidence, such swagger. Such an enviable lack of 'give a damn'. God, he missed Russell. He would know what to do in this situation. He would have the perfect advice. Nick couldn't just text him. Could he?

Nick clearly wasn't thinking straight. He needed sleep. It was late, after all, and he'd consumed his fair share of alcohol. And since he was the only person in the loft without a companion this night, he really would be well served just to get some shut eye.

The only one without a companion. Winston was with the girl from the bar who he thought was supposed to be engaged or whatever, and Schmidt was with Holly. Again, mental note: kill Schmidt. And, of course, Jess was across the hall with Dr. Dreamboat. His hands probably all over her the way Nick's were earlier, only more so. Entwining themselves in her wonderful hair, roaming the soft cotton of the back of her pink robe. That's if she was even still wearing the robe. After all, that wasn't exactly late-night-investigation-of-scratches-at-the-door type attire she was wearing. No, the purpose of that ensemble was… something else.

"Oh my God!" he whisper-screamed to himself.

After the gut wrenching thought settled in a bit, Nick again sprang up and bolted to the door. This time he flung it open and came face to face with the empty hallway, and Jess' closed door across it. The hall was dark, and the room was seemingly quiet. At least from where he stood. But that didn't mean…

Before he let his thoughts go that direction, he shut his door and, like a scolded child, sulked over to sit on the corner of his bed. He buried his head in his hands and decided that it was best he didn't' know what was going on behind the closed doors of any of the other rooms in the loft. Especially not the room across the hall. There simply was no activity that could be taking place behind that door that wouldn't lead to jealousy. And, most likely, pain.

He allowed himself to slide down to his back, covering his eyes with his elbows to shield them from the light that was slowly starting to spill into his room. It seemed he had already been going over his situation in his head for hours. Hours that seemed like minutes. What had he done? Would she ever forgive him? Would she ever talk to him again? Would her skyscraper of a boyfriend hammer punch his clavicle the next time he laid eyes on him? Would Jess take umbrage the liberties taken and do it herself? What waited for him on the other side of the door when the sun finally did rise? Other than, of course, the obligatory task of killing Schmidt.

He shut his eyes, and forced himself to think of something else. The kiss. It suddenly seemed a waste that he hadn't just been thinking of that the whole time. It was simply the most enchanting and exhilarating 20 seconds of his life, unlikely to ever be repeated. He should have done his best to hang on to that memory. Revel in it while it was still strong. Truly feel the imprint before it inevitably faded away. Rolling to his side, he thought only of the kiss, replaying it over and over in his mind. As he was mere seconds away from sleep, sleep that potentially would have provided she sweetest dreams imaginable, he thought of something the sent a surge of adrenaline through his body.

That moment behind the iron curtain. Before Dr. Sam showed up. She had said he'd be smoking hot if he just tended to himself a tiny bit more. That he was his own 'cooler'. He had let his hand fall to her leg, and she had not objected. Not at all. Rather, she had smiled at him. Looking back, that's when he knew he was going to kiss her. This whole moment was lost in the shuffle after the arrival of the doctor, but he recalled it clearly now. He was pretty sure he was going to kiss her then, and he was pretty sure she was going to let him. What else could that smile have been about?

And she had let him kiss her, in the end, right? She had kissed back, even. More than just kissed back. She gave as good as she got. And boy, what she got was the best he had to offer. Why on earth did he just let her go? Why did he drop her hands, walk away from her still beautifully stunned face, and shut the door on her. Why didn't he pull her into his room right then and there? She was game for the kiss, maybe she would have been game for more. Game for… him? The truth was, there were no easy answers to be found. For better or worse, he had complicated things. Complicated the hell out of them.

"Oh, you kissed her," he murmured to himself as the realization hit him. "You idiot!"

He sat up and punched the wall harder than anyone should punch a wall. He jumped up in pain and gave his hands a few shakes. This was going to make killing Schmidt harder, he thought as his mind took to the swelling of his hand. He needed ice. Still feeling the effects of his punch, he flipped the door open with his good hand and stepped out into the hall. He had intended to tiptoe quickly to the freezer to ice up his wounded hand, but he froze at the sight of Jess' door. He meekly approached the door, allowing himself to ponder again what the lovely occupant of room behind it was dreaming of at that moment.


	7. The Troubles of Table 1

**The Troubles of Table 1**

He took his seat in the middle of the leftmost row of chairs and waited for Jess to take her seat across from him. Where had this blue dress come from? And moreover, where had the blue, 4 inch heels come from? So not Jess. Not that he was complaining. It was nice to see her in something that didn't feature bows or polka dots.

She finally sat down in front of him, the irritation on her face evident. He wasn't sure what was going on with her today, and he only had 60 seconds to find out before he'd find himself talking to someone else. Likely some 'too busy for a social life' doctoral candidate with a work ethic that shamed his own. 60 seconds wasn't much time, so he decided to lead off with the old Sweeney charm.

"Nice job winning the table building competition, baby."

"Yeah, it didn't mean anything, so." she twitched back at him.

"I didn't… think it meant anything," he returned, confused.

"Yeah, no… it's just… Nick. Just… drives me crazy. It's like… you know?"

"Yeah, I mean, I never…" he started. Wait. Why is she making all this fuss about Nick? Is this because the idiot refused to kiss her last night? His loss, obviously, but it's nothing for Jess to feel self-conscious about. Idiot or no, 30 year old dudes don't normally find it necessary to adhere to the rules of screwy truth or dare type trivia drinking games or whatever the hell they were doing last night. Besides, Nick was just getting out of a relationship with that super-hot but super dysfunctional stripper. Under normal circumstances, Sam would question any guy who passed up a chance to get his lips on Jess. But Nick? Nick had valid reasons. But then why is Jess so unnerved right now. Unless…

"Well, yeah. That's just… that's what I was saying," she continued, still visibly flustered.

"Is there… uh… something I should know, here?"

"No!" she exclaimed, her eyes growing impossibly wide. Wide enough to make the validity of her protestation impossible to believe. "Cause…"

"Men, switch seats," called the host as the bell dinged.

He numbly got up and moved to his left, ignoring Jess' pleas to wait. What the hell was going on here? He nodded politely at the woman in the grey business suit that sat before him. She nodded politely and smiled.

"Well, aren't we a handsome one," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"I suppose. I mean, I…"

"Unfortunately, I'm guessing you aren't from my home country, let alone my village."

"Not unless your village is Worcester, Massachusetts," he quipped as he peered to his right to get a look at Nick. He took a good look at the clown in the ragged brown hoodie and shrugged. He had had the sense at least to take off the rather offensive turban, but he was throwing back Heislers like it was a frat party.

"Alas," said the woman in front of him. "The children would've been beautiful."

"You betcha," Sam answered, turning to again look at Jess. Why was she wearing that dress? It clearly wasn't hers. And the shoes? He was honestly surprised she hadn't snapped her ankle yet. He remembered his manners and turned back to say something to the woman in front of him, but she had already turned her attention to the man on deck to Sam's right. Breathing a sigh of relief, he wondered how on earth he had ended up here.

"Times up! Switch places," called the host again as Sam dutifully rose and stepped to his left.

"Sam!" Jess called from two seats down. She stood up and walked over to the girl in front of Sam. "Hey, you have to go," she said to the girl. "Yeah, you have to go over there. Yeah, bye-bye. Go now."

Jess turned toward Sam and sat down. She nervously batted a long, stray strand of hair out of her face as she looked up at him seriously. It suddenly occurred to him that her hair was up, hastily thrown into some style that had no business being worn matched with the ridiculously fancy dress she was wearing. Something was definitely up.

"Hi. Um, Sam. I do have something to tell you."

"O… kay…"

"Sam. Nick… last night… he… kissed me," she said, her face bracing for his reaction.

"I see," he replied, nodding slowly. "Then why did he run out to the ledge? What was that all about?"

"No, it wasn't… it was… later."

"Later when?" he asked, folding his arms.

"I don't know, it was just later. After bed. I heard a scratching noise, and I asked Nick to check it out for me, and then…"

"Wait, you asked Nick? Why didn't you ask me?"

"I don't… I mean, I didn't…"

"Whatever, it's okay. Doesn't matter. Just going to have to have a little talk with him."

"Sam."

"What did he say?" he demanded, his voice starting to raise.

"What… when?"

"What did he say after he kissed you and you told him to back off?"

As he waited for her answer, his anger turned to shock. He felt the air leave his body as he observed her inability to come up with anything to say. Her mouth fell open, her lips occasionally attempting to form the words, but being unable to find anything suitable. Her eyes, even brighter than normal due to some coaxing from the blue dress, fell from his. They looked down embarrassed, searching for something just as her mouth continued to search for the right words. Her silence told him everything he needed to know.

"You didn't stop him," he stated matter of factly.

Her eyes fixed on a spot just past him, and she said nothing.

"You didn't stop him because…," he started, realization building. "Because you wanted it. You… liked it. Did… did you kiss him back?"

She shut her eyes and turned her head to the left.

"Jess, look at me," he said softly.

She finally brought her eyes to meet his, and he knew he was right. Worse, he knew it was over. He saw an apology behind the blue in her eyes. He saw the guilt. But what he didn't see was regret. He didn't see any pleading to be understood, or anything that told Sam that she wanted him to forgive her. Or even that his forgiveness would even be necessary.

"I can't believe this," he said, standing up.

"No, Sam…"

But he was off. If it was going to end like this, it wasn't going to happen in room full of strangers.

"Sam, wait," she called after him, getting up to follow him out of the room.

How had it come to this? Where did it go wrong? In retrospect, they did get off to a rather inauspicious start. But somewhere along the way, a sex only relationship the foxy Katie had turned into so much more. A fun, light, yet rewarding elationship with the offbeat, beautiful, and syrupy sweet Jess. And now he's losing her to a swarthy bartender with questionable grooming habits and a predilection to women's outerwear? What was she thinking?

"Sam, wait," she said again as she caught up with him. "I'm really sorry."

Really sorry, but….

"I said I wanted to commit to this," he said, finally turning to face her. "I thought you understood what that meant?"

"I do," she tried. "I did," she immediately corrected.

So, that was that. Did. Past tense. He'd begrudgingly opened himself up again, and it had been great. For a while. Yet here he was, watching another woman he cared deeply about turning away from him. As the realization took hold, Sam noted Nick approaching from down the corridor. What exactly did this usurper want?

"Hey, hey. Sam, listen," he started, earnestly enough.

Sam turned his scowl on Nick. Like a rattlesnake shaking its rattle, he was trying to give him an opportunity to back off.

"I kissed her, okay? She didn't kiss me. It didn't mean anything to her," he said, looking at Jess. Sam couldn't tell, but it seemed like Nick might've even thought that was true.

"Thank you," Jess said. But it was too late.

Sam's long arm shot out instinctively and caught Nick sharply in the throat.

"Oh my God!" Jess cried out.

Maybe that was a bit much, but he couldn't help it. As Nick crumbled to the ground, Sam felt the guilt growing. It wasn't Nick he was mad at. Hell, he couldn't blame him. A girl like Jess? It's a wonder the other idiots in that apartment hadn't tried something with her either.

"Sorry, Nick, it's the training."

"He's in such terrible shape," Jess scolded as she knelt beside Nick. Her hands went to his shoulders to soothe him. Even now, it was clear where her concerns lied. Sam shook his head as Nick tried to whimper out some feeble threat.

"It might not have meant something to you, but it meant something to me."

Jess finally looked up at him, probably knowing what was coming. Probably hoping Sam did it himself, saving her the trouble and the guilt of being the one to end it.

"I'm done, so. Goodbye, Jess," he said, turning to walk away.

"No, Sam," she weakly protested. He turned back to her and realized that's all she was going to offer. The kiss meant nothing to her? Who was she trying to fool?

"Ice it, 24 hours. Keep it elevated," he said. As he turned the corner, he stole a glance back at the pair and couldn't help but noticed they still hadn't moved. Nick was still on his back, Jess was still kneeling beside him. And she still hadn't taken her hands off of him.


	8. Paper Towels

**Paper Towels**

Winston stood outside the door marked 4D and thumbed through his keys until he found the one he needed. Yawning deeply, he plugged the key into the door and stepped into the loft. He dropped the key onto the bowl on the table by the door and stopped. He looked carefully around the darkened apartment. His eyes found nothing specifically out of the ordinary, but every other feeling he got said something was wrong. He turned to his left to and looked down the hall, observing that the doors to Nick and Jess' rooms were shut. It was a little uncommon, but nothing to cause a stir. Nick was most likely still at work, and Jess had probably just stuck to her plan of a night in bed. Looking down at his watch, Winston saw that it was almost midnight. As he walked to his room, he considered dropping in on Nick at the bar, but thought better of it. After the eventful day he had had, best to just grab a snack, flip on the late night Sportscenter, and veg out.

He shuffled to his room, pulling his grey hoodie off as he neared his open door, revealing the red, long sleeved tee underneath. He flung the hoodie across the room so that it landed on his bed, and kicked his shoes off just inside the door. Turning back through the hall, a soft sound from inside Jess' room made him pause briefly just outside her door. He leaned his ear towards her room and waited for the noise to repeat itself. When it did not, he shrugged and made his way towards the kitchen to grab himself a beer and a bag of chips. As he moved into the living room, he was again struck by a feeling that something was off. His feet solved the mystery before his eyes could as his socked feet slogged into what felt like about an eighth of an inch of standing water. Hopping back in surprise, Winston looked up and finally put two and two together. Schmidt's giant fish tank, intended home to his Cece inspired California Lionfish, had shattered. Water was everywhere.

He looked around the room quickly, not finding any time to concern himself with what could've possibly caused the minor catastrophe before him. Finding no better solutions, he leapt into the kitchen where he grabbed a large roll of paper towels off the counter. He bounded back to the living room as he unwound the roll and started spreading it haphazardly over the several gallons of water that had flooded the floor. As he dropped the final sheet to the ground, he stepped back and took stock. He reasonably concluded all he needed was another seven rolls or so, and he'd be all set.

"Quilted, quicker picker-upper my ass," he muttered.

He sprang back into the kitchen and looked under the island where they normally kept the extra paper towels. Grabbing a roll in each hand and stuffing the edge of a third in his mouth, he turned back to the living room to repeat what he had done with the first roll just in time to catch Nick stepping out of his room into the hallway.

Winston tucked the roll in his right arm under his shoulder and removed the roll from his mouth. He was just about to call out when he stopped. He instead watched silently as Nick hesitantly approached Jess' door and raised his hand to knock before thinking better of it. He took half a step back and ran his fingers deliberately through his hair. As Winston watched on with great curiosity, Nick took yet another step back before wildly throwing a series of punches into the air in front of Jess' door. He then hung his head and turned back into his room, closing the door softly behind him.

"What the…" Winston said to himself as he dropped one of the paper towel rolls to the ground.

An instant later, Jess' door opened and she stepped cautiously into the hallway. Winston put his hand on his hip and he examined Jess' attire. She wasn't what you could call dressed up, but she was certainly dressed to go out. Or, at least she had been. Gone were the tattered robe, glasses, and pajamas she was wearing earlier in the afternoon, replaced by a casual red blouse atop her customary black skirt and black tights. But it wasn't what she wore so much as how she wore it that caught Winston's eye. Her blouse was only partially tucked in, and damp in spots. More interestingly, it appeared to be about half unbuttoned. On a normal girl, a few unbuttoned buttons up top wouldn't really raise an eyebrow. But this was the modest Jessica Day he was looking at. There is no way she left the loft looking like that.

Winston found himself shaking his head, never taking his eyes off Jess, who herself hadn't the slightest idea she and Nick were no longer alone in the loft. She moved briskly to Nick's door, raised her right hand with authority, and went to knock. She stopped halfway through the motion and left her hand raised, mere inches from the door. She then lowered her hand and slowly turned to her right. She took a step back toward her room before spinning back to her left and again approaching Nick's room with her hand raised. Again, she stopped short of knocking. She instead dropped her arms and stomped her right foot twice in frustration. She again turned, emitted a soft growl, and disappeared back into her room, the door closing silently behind her. The loft fell silent as Winston was left alone with his thoughts.

"No way," Winston finally said to himself as he backed into the kitchen and took a seat at one of the island stools.

It seemed the damn had finally broken. It had been obvious to some. Well, obvious to him, anyway, that there was something going on between Nick and Jess. It may not have been since Day 1, but it was a long time coming. Long, long before Nick's weak ass admission to kissing Jess out of the blue the night of True American. Winston had tried to bring it up to Schmidt before, but he wouldn't hear of it. Schmidt would just call up the No Nail Oath on his phone and declare that there was no way Nick, his best friend, would "Do me like that". Winston had been away a while, but he had also known Nick for a lot longer than Schmidt. It was no surprise he saw the signs first. Besides, Schmidt was the guy spending the night in a hospital after earning himself a jellyfish sting to the face by hunting a rare and protected species of fish in the shallow waters mere yards from where the city waste barges docked. He didn't always exhibit a great deal of perspective.

Jess was, predictably, a little harder book to read. But then, she was so strange he was pretty sure she was written in Klingon or some even weirder, more out there language of her own design. It was clear to Winston, however, that even for someone who was sweet and thoughtful towards everyone, Jess was different around Nick. He brought out an edge in her, a sternness. Winston had always chalked it up to the teacher in her, but it was more than that. There was just something there between the two of them.

Winston shook his head and rolled his eyes. He was getting way, way ahead of himself. Maybe they were just fighting again. That was par for the course, after all. Maybe all he thought he was seeing was really just two people who rubbed each other the wrong way rubbing each other the wrong way. Maybe Jess had sobered up and gone down to 'Guys Night', seen what a spectacular mistake it was, and, being the honest type, let Nick know it. Winston tightened his lips and nodded to himself, fully convinced. That was it. Just Nick and Jess bickering like usual, he decided. Nothing more.

Mere seconds after arriving at his mind-soothing conclusion, both Nick and Jess' doors flew open and they all but exploded into each other's arms. Winston tried to turn away, but his eyes were glued. Their hands were everywhere. Their faces, joined. Jess jumped up into Nick's arms as he spun 180 degrees and stumbled forward, pressing her into the jamb of his door. After a few moments of pure intensity, their mouths finally separated, gasping for air. After taking a breath, they made brief eye contact before diving back in for more. They didn't get very far this time, however, as Jess pulled away, grabbing her jaw in pain.

"Aw, my face," she cried.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Nick asked, agitated.

"Be gentle!"

"I thought I was supposed to kiss you 'like a man'!"

"Yeah, good luck with that!"

"Oh, you just know everything don't you!"

"More than you!"

Nick set Jess down as she continued cradling her jaw. He took a step back, raising his hands to his head in anger.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. Why don't you just go burn your precious wuddle pwinky on a microwaved chicken pot pie or something?"

"It was soup, and I made it for you!"

"Some good it did!"

"Oh, why do I bother?"

"Beats me! I could ask myself the same thing!"

"Oh, you are just-"

"Shut up!"

The brushed by each other angrily as the stormed into their own rooms, slamming their doors loudly behind them. Winton looked on in stunned silence, making sure he was safe from any further fallout before standing up.

There was little left to doubt now. His fears were confirmed. He was certainly not looking forward to telling Schmidt about this one. Things were about to change, and change good. Together or apart, Nick and Jess were set to detonate. And nothing was going to be the same. That was some make out session. Heated. Passionate. Like something out of the movies. And Winston was pretty sure this was just the beginning.

He stepped into the living room and stood thoughtfully a moment, ignoring the mess before him. He instead pulled his cellphone from his pants pocket, flipped to a number, and brought the phone to his ear. He stepped to the front door and reached into the bowl on the adjacent table and fished out his keys. He paused, stood quietly, and waited until his call was answered.

"Hey, Daisy? You home? Yeah? For how long? That's enough. I'll be there in 10. No, no. Make that 7. I'll run every stop sign I see."

With that, Winston stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind him, aware and unconcerned that he was stepping out shoeless into the Los Angeles night.


	9. Best Men and Butter Knives

Nick sat at the table with his friends and watched the slack jawed mouth breather struggle to make his decision. Sure the guy was handsome, and he gave a charming enough speech. But any guy who was having this hard a time deciding between Jessica Day and, well, any other woman with oxygen in her lungs, had some serious mental deficiencies. And, at the risk of thinking too harshly on the afflicted, Nick also reasoned that the handsome dolt probably possessed some serious character flaws as well. In the event that Jess did bring this fellow home, Nick was pretty sure he would end up kicking him in the chest.

Leaning back in his chair, he allowed himself a moment to check out Jess' competition for the evening. No slouch, to be sure. Tall, smart, confident. Nick frowned, nodded to himself and admitted, yes, this Kat gal had some things in some places. She had the bronzed skin thing going on, she had the hard-body thing going on, and she had the genius thing going on. Once upon a time, Nick himself would've been eager to leap at an opportunity with a girl like that. Once upon a time, however, had passed.

He scanned the table, noting the glassware, and realized that everybody was on E. Every glass, every bottle… empty. Nick hadn't been drinking as much of late, despite all the free drinks he'd had the opportunity to swill at the recent purge of nuptial bliss. But he could sure use one now. He looked down instead at his place card and smirked. 'Nicholas Miller' it read, with a little red dot signifying the steak he had requested. Little dry, but he never got too hard on caterers. Cooking for 100 people all at once was no small task, after all. He reached out, snapped up the card, and flipped it over in his fingers. The summer's early weddings hadn't given him his own, personal place card. Instead, the first four of five had all been for 'Mr. Nicholas Miller and Miss Jessica Day". But those days were gone, it seemed, the big news of their demise making its way through the ranks of their friends as the summer drew to a close.

He dropped the place card and glanced over at Schmidt, who was making small talk with Cece. Nick had always felt some compassion for Schmidt and his having to cope with being mere friends with the woman he loved. Even though he had brought almost all of it on himself, it was difficult for Nick to watch his best friend put up the façade. Sure, it fooled some of the people some of the time, but it never fooled Nick. No matter how hot the hostess or how beautiful the bartender Schmidt bragged about bringing home, Nick knew better.

And now Nick knew even better still as he found himself going through the same motions Schmidt had. Turns out, he was actually pretty good at it. Keeping it in, putting up a brave front. But it was difficult. Taxing. And it was certainly wearing on him. Just earlier that evening he had, for some reason, given Jess a little pep talk. And it took it out of him. But he did it for her. Because it was best for her to move on. Best for her to find better. Besides, she needed to go first if Nick had any chance of someday moving on himself. Not that he had any inkling of doing so anytime soon. If ever.

Seriously, what was this idiot's problem? Jessica Day is interested and you can't simply pick her? What is this guy's malfunction? Nick picked up a stray knife some busboy had missed from the table and held it out in front his face. Speaking of idiots, he thought to himself as he studied his reflection.

Looking back at Jess, he wondered if there was some other world, some parallel universe where he could've been up for making it work with her. A world where he could've actually engaged her in her, certainly ill-timed but not ill intended, conversation on the future. Sure, her ideals were a little out there, but he wasn't even willing to bring the conversation back to Earth so that they could enter into an actual dialogue about where they could someday go together. What they could someday be. But no. That would've taken real courage. That would've meant facing something real. And he hadn't been ready to give up the fairy tale yet. He wasn't ready for her to figure out on her own that he was no Prince Charming, and that even if he wanted, he wasn't going to be able to give her the future she wanted. Better to just let her go now and save her the years, and the inevitable disappointment.

Nick dropped the knife back to the table, forced his eyes off of Jess and again looked over at her competition. Hell, if Nick didn't end up kicking the guy in the chest, then Kat was starting to seem willing to oblige. What is this guy's problem? One or the other? Right pick, wrong pick. Any pick, please. Just put us all out of our misery. Closing his eyes, Nick asked himself who he honestly wanted the most ironically titled 'best man' in the world to pick. His gut obviously had him pulling for Kat. He knew the pain that picking Jess would cause him, and he knew that his days of faking it would promptly give way to days of _unconvincingly_ faking it. But his brain was telling him it was time to have the Band-Aid ripped off. Just get it over with so he could move on. Or, at the very least, think about moving on. Looking back at Jess again, Nick smiled to himself. There was another reason he wanted Jess to move on first, of course. And that was so she could be happy.

He struggled to force the dumb smile from his face as he looked at her. She had grown her hair out a bit, and it suited her quite well. She could shave her damn head and it would probably suit her quite well, though. He chanced a look at her eyes, as blue as ever, and noted how tired they looked. And annoyed. Nick raised his eyebrows and straightened up in his seat when it registered. He wanted the Band-Aid ripped off, he wanted the healing to begin, and he wanted Jess to be happy. But Nick could see in her eyes that this guy wasn't the one get the job done.

Exhaling deeply, both in relief and disappointment (but mostly of relief), Nick slouched back in his chair. Of course this bro wasn't going to cut the mustard. He couldn't even make a decision between Jess and some beautiful, genius scientist chick who was just a little bit scary. No, Jess needed better. Someone who knew what she wanted. Someone who would put her first all day, every day. Someone who loved her for all her weirdness. Someone who made her laugh, made her happy, and make her challenge herself. Someone she could love back, and who would actually deserve her love. Someone who knew how to give her all of that and more.

Nick looked down at the table again, his eyes catching the handle of the knife he had been toying with moments before. He instinctively looked down from the handle to the blade, where he caught just a sliver of his own reflection. But he was so far away, and the reflection was so tiny in the blade that he could barely make it out. He slowly leaned forward, with minimal effort, until the image of his own face came into stronger focus.

He stared at the knife a moment longer and, for some subconscious reason, found great comfort in it. He thoughtfully embraced the comfort, not noticing the way Jess was looking over at him as Kat walked the very confused best man out of the wedding hall.


End file.
